


in the moments between us

by Satine86



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: 5+1, Canon Compliant, F/M, Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Suggestive Themes, carwheeler appreciation week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: 5 times Anne and Phillip were interrupted, and 1 time they weren't.





	in the moments between us

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4: Intimate Moments 
> 
> I think this is actually my favorite thing I've written for Carwheeler Week. I hope you guys like it too!

1)

It was a rarity to find Anne on her own. Usually life in the circus meant there was little time alone. So many people crowded together in the building, always chatting. It was a nice change from what Phillip had been used to, and being able to see the camaraderie amongst them, the friendship that seemed to come so easily to everyone was heartening.

Anne especially often seemed to be the center of attention. If she wasn't with a gaggle of ladies from the troupe, she was with her brother or the Barnum girls. Sometimes a combination of all of the above. Phillip couldn't blame anyone, he only wished he could be so freely in her company as well. That was perhaps why it was so strange to find her alone when he arrived to the circus that morning. She was sat on the lip of the ring, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them and her head tilted back. She glanced at him the moment he stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mister Carlyle.”

“Good morning, Miss Wheeler.” Phillip doffed his hat, stepped over the lip and stopped several paces from her in the middle of the ring. “I'm not disturbing you, am I?”

She smiled at him -- a bright shining thing that made his heart stutter inside his chest -- before she lowered her head, eyes downcast. 

“No,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “I like to come out here sometimes to think over routines. New tricks. It helps to see the space, makes it clearer in my mind.” 

Phillip looked up then, stared at the trapeze bars hooked to the platform above. He thought of Anne flying through the air, always graceful and breathtakingly beautiful. He dropped his gaze back down to her, sitting in the middle of the empty room. Her long limbs folded inward, a little more awkward than graceful, and sans her vibrant costume and bright pink wig that made her seem otherworldly. But even in plain clothes with her curls shoved into a haphazard bun she was still just as breathtaking. 

“What new tricks do you have planned?” he asked, hoping to stay in her company just a little while longer.

“A drop.” Anne clamored to her feet and joined him center ring. She stood close to him and excitedly explained her idea, pointing to the rafters with one hand while the other would occasionally brush the hem of his jacket. 

What she described sounded dangerous, and he might have tried to dissuade her had he been able to find his voice. As it were he could only nod, and try not to stare too openly like the besotted fool he was. Phillip might have stayed there all day basking in her presence, and he had the oddest feeling she wouldn't have minded, had the rest of the troupe not started to file in and start their rehearsals. He and Anne broke apart, acted as if nothing had happened. Because truly, nothing had. 

“I should get to work, I have paperwork to finish up.” He gestured toward the stairs with his hat in hand.

“Of course, Mister Carlyle. I'm sorry I kept you.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.

“No, you didn't. It was… I mean I enjoyed talking with you, Miss Wheeler. I always do,” he said softly. Shyly.

Her head snapped up, and she gave him another shining smile. “So do I,” she whispered.

Phillip wanted to say more, wanted to see more of her smiles. But then O'Malley was there with work questions and knowing glances between them so Phillip finally took his leave. All the while wishing he could stay.

 

2)

The salt air stung Phillip’s face when he stepped onto the deck, and he pulled his coat a little tighter. In the distance New York City was a faint pinprick on the horizon, and Phillip was happy to be close to home. London had been a success for the circus, all things considered. Yet it hadn’t been at all what he had expected. For good or ill. Perhaps his problem was having expectations? Maybe one day he would learn to let go of them. 

A flash of cream and scarlet caught his eye and Phillip turned to see Anne several paces away. She had her shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, the fringe rustling in the breeze as she gazed out over the water. She looked achingly beautiful in that moment, framed by golden morning light and face relaxed for the first time in days. She hadn’t been herself in London. He had hated every second of it. 

Expectations, he thought. There were too many. They swarmed his mind like angry wasps, buzzing and stinging, and he knew there was little he could do to quiet them completely. He felt as if he had come to a crossroads; either he go backward, the way he came, or he moved forward. Toward Anne. 

She saved him from the choice when she turned and spotted him, a smile blooming on her face. If seeing her at ease had been nice, seeing her look so happy again was a revelation. 

“Hello,” Anne said, her eyes lighting up as she made her way to his side. There was something reassuring about the fact she chose his company. Something thrilling. “Happy to be home?” She nodded at the skyline in the distance and leaned back against the rail. 

“Yes, actually. You must be as well,” he said. Phillip hesitated for just a moment before he rested his elbows against the rail beside her. They were close, but not close enough to touch. 

Anne's gaze found his, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why do you say that?”

“I…” He tried to find the right words, suddenly embarrassed. How could he tell her that he had noticed her unease from the start because he noticed everything about her? “I could just tell you didn’t have the best time. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Anne flashed him a reassuring smile then ducked her head and shyly tucked some curls behind her ear, lips pressed together.

“Considering I’m the one who got us the invitation, I’m at least partially to blame.” He meant it as a joke, at least a little bit. Phillip did blame himself though. 

“You’re not!” she said hastily. “I mean, I don’t blame you. It’s only that things weren’t as I had imagined. If that's anyone's fault, it's mine.” She lifted her shoulders, shook her head dismissively.

“If it helps, it wasn’t what I had imagined either.” 

Anne looked at him again and held his gaze for a moment, searching. Then she smiled. It was a little wider than before, and much less shy. It was bordering on radiant. Phillip felt his breath leave him in a rush, like a punch to the gut. 

A shout behind them caught them both off guard, some of the ladies from the troupe waving Anne over. Apparently there was some not-quite emergency that required her attention. Now.

She pushed away from the rail, shy again and avoiding his gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go see what all the fuss is about. But,” her eyes darted up to his, oddly hopeful. “We’ll talk again soon?” 

He gave her a genuine smile before she left, “I'll hold you to that.”

 

3)

She haunted him. Not just because he couldn't get her out of his mind, dreaming of her and of things that would never come to pass. And not because he couldn't seem to shake the memory of holding her close, and how she had felt in his arms for that brief, blissful moment. Or how warm her breath had felt ghosting across his face when he believed for one deliriously happy second that she would kiss him.

All of that was inescapable, unavoidable in the dark, endless hours of the night. But that wasn't why she haunted him. She haunted him because she was like a ghost in the building. He only ever caught glimpses of pink or purple from the corner of his eye, or the swaying fringe on the edge of her shawl as she hastily disappeared around a corner. 

The only time he really saw her was when she performed. She was oblivious of him then, only focused on the task before her. It was part bliss, part torture. Bliss because he could watch her openly, the way her face relaxed, carefree and happy while she did what she loved. It was torture because it, more than anything, reminded him of that night. Reminded him of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. He imagined what it would be like to see that carefree gaze directed at him, instead of the remorse and guilt and pain he saw the few instances she actually looked at him anymore.

It was hell. 

He knew it couldn't continue on like it was, for a myriad of reasons. Even some that weren't entirely selfish. 

Phillip sought her out one day after practice when she was hurrying from the ring, ready to avoid him as she always did. This time, however, he was waiting. It wasn't how it should be, it wasn't how he wanted it to be. But it was the only option he had.

“Anne?” he said when she appeared backstage. It was thankfully devoid of people. For now.

She hesitated, and he could see her swallow thickly. When she turned to leave -- to flee? -- he stopped her with a hand on her wrist, careful not to touch her directly. Instead he let his fingers curl around the bright pink wrap covering her wrists.

“We can't keep doing this,” he said. “You can't keep avoiding me.”

“Why not?”

“Because P.T. is gone and I'm here, and I'm so sorry it's me. But it is, and we have to work together.”

“Things have worked well enough so far. It doesn't have to change.” She spoke softly and glanced down at his fingers still clinging gently to her wrist. He was suddenly aware of how close they were, hidden in the shadows as if it were something to be kept in the dark. Perhaps she was right.

Phillip let out a shaky breath and dropped his hand. He took a step back, but even as he did so Anne turned more fully toward him. Now they were face to face and he knew he wouldn't be able to leave her without great cost. He wondered how much it cost her to continually be the one who walked away. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, they had drawn closer together. Close enough for him to feel her breath ghosting across his face. It was achingly familiar and he hated it. He also relished it. Her eyes were locked with his, unwavering. For just a fraction of a second her gaze dropped. His gaze did as well. Her lips were slightly parted, her face so much softer, more open than he had seen in weeks. He swallowed, acutely aware of how little space was between them; how little it would take to close the distance and finally kiss her. However, Phillip remained rooted, unwilling to cross that boundary after everything. No matter how much he yearned to.

Phillip was surprised when Anne inched her mouth towards his. Her lips hovered over his, and his breath caught in his throat. Absently he wet his lips, knew that all it would take was a hairsbreadth and then…

“Anne?” It was W.D. Thankfully he hadn't spotted them yet.

They broke apart. Phillip's heart pounded inside his chest while he struggled to catch his breath. He looked at Anne, her face closed off again. Unreadable.

“I'm sorry,” he said and turned to leave. To flee?

“So am I.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and he wondered if she had meant to speak out loud at all.

 

4)

“Remember, breathe deeply. Into your stomach.” Anne had a supportive hand on Phillip's back, the other resting on his abdomen as she took in a sympathetic breath herself.

He tried not to laugh, partially because he didn't want to insult her. Mostly because he knew it would result in a coughing fit. He settled for an amused smirk instead.

“Yes, doctor Wheeler. Thank you for reminding me.” They were currently taking a tour around the hospital ward, letting Phillip get a little exercise while practicing breathing techniques to help with his recovery.

She frowned a little, nose wrinkling annoyance. “I just want you to be all right,” she said.

“I am all right.” Phillip laid his hand over hers, still splayed on his stomach. “Promise.”

“Fine. I want you to be more than all right,” she conceded, her face softening. 

“That would be nice. Then I could walk out that door and leave, instead of just passing it by for the twentieth time. How novel,” he said as they walked by the exit, heading back to his bed at the other end of the ward.

Soon he would be discharged, and soon he would actually get some time alone with Anne. Time to talk more freely, to touch more freely… to kiss more freely. After their first initial kisses -- kisses he still had to remind himself were not a dream -- the staff had been less accommodating when it came to displays of affection between them. For a multitude of reasons, he was sure. The important thing was that she was allowed to remain by his side while he recovered. Although that didn't mean he wasn't counting the minutes until he could leave.

“I'm sorry,” Anne said. She pressed her hand a little more firmly against his stomach, her thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt absently. 

“You don't need to apologize.” He pulled her hand away and laced their fingers. The ward was quiet for the moment, just the pair of them, and he felt a little bolder than usual.

Anne didn't reply beyond a non-committal noise in the back of her throat. Although she did tighten her fingers around his. When they reached his bed Phillip sat on the edge, and pulled Anne down next to him before she could retake her chair. 

“But I will be glad to leave,” he said, fiddling with her fingers.

“Must be such a chore being fussed over all the time,” she teased.

Phillip laughed, looked up at her with a smile. “Depends on who it is doing all the fussing.” 

Anne giggled before growing a little more serious. She reached up with her free hand, brushed back some of his hair and then let her fingers trail down his neck. “I know it's tedious being stuck in here,” she said.

“I can handle the tedium, even when the nights do tend to drag on. What I am having trouble with is the fact I can't kiss you as often as I'd like.” He watched her fight a grin, biting her lip as she glanced away. She carefully looked around the room before meeting his eyes again.

“I would like to point out that we appear to be very alone at the moment. So if someone were to kiss another someone. Now might be an opportune time.”

“Is that a request?” He leaned in. 

“Just a statement of fact,” she whispered, and leaned in as well.

“Mm, I see.” Phillip was close enough now that his lips brushed hers when he spoke. With barely any space between them he could practically feel her kiss already.

Only it seemed the moment was not so opportune. The doors near his bed opened, an orderly bustling in with a new patient. A doctor and two nurses were close behind. Phillip and Anne pulled back immediately. Anne quickly shifted from the bed to her chair. He let her fingers slip from his, caught her eye the moment she was settled.

“Soon,” he said. A promise.

Her smile was bright and shining. “I'll hold you to that.”

 

5)

“I really hadn't meant to distract you. I just wanted to see you for a little while, you've been so busy lately.” Even as Anne spoke she tilted her head to one side, exposing her neck a little more fully to his mouth.

He had been busy lately, working to secure land and supplies and extra staff in order to get the circus up and running again. They needed workers to construct the tent, and get the support beams in place. They needed double the stage crew for the new specifications. Plus new housing for the troupe. It was endless. It was also a necessary evil, because it meant his free time was practically non-existent. Unless he wished to forgo sleep, which he had on more than one occasion. But considering he was still healing from his injuries, that wasn't the best plan. 

So when Anne had shown up to his makeshift office by the docks, a small lunch packed in a basket, he had been beyond thrilled. What else was he to do but kiss her? Of course those first few kisses had gone from grateful to playful to wanting. Now she was perched on the edge of his desk, her hands clasped around the back of his neck while his lips grazed her skin.

The best distraction. 

“I really don't mind,” he said, barely lifting his mouth from her racing pulse. There were worse things he could imagine. A great deal many of them, in fact, but very few things that were much better. And those few particular things also involved Anne. 

She hummed softly, slid her hands from his neck to his jaw and forced his head up in order to kiss him again. Anne arched into Phillip, fitted herself against him and sighed happily.

He guessed she didn't mind either.

Anne surprised him by leaning backward, nearly draping herself across the desk. Phillip had all of two seconds to decide what to do: follow her lips or break the kiss.

It was an absurdly easy choice. He had to move his knee onto the desk to chase Anne's lips, his hands braced on either side of her head. Her fingers gripped the collar of his shirt, keeping him close -- as if he were going anywhere.

It was utterly scandalous, the position they were in. The passion building between them. Anne slowly bent her knee, slid her leg along his in a rather provocative manner. Phillip kissed her a little harder, his mouth slanting over hers. Her fingers moved from his collar to his hair. She moaned low in her throat, and he felt want surge through him. He wanted Anne more than anything.

A loud crash outside made them break apart, startled and wide eyed.

“What was that?” 

“I have no idea, but I doubt it's good.” 

“You should probably go investigate.”

He was set to disagree, the others could handle it, whatever it was. He was positive. Then the sound happened again, this time followed by yells and curses. Phillip hung his head and sighed.

“I should go,” he said. He pressed a quick kiss to her chin, the first part of her he could reach, and climbed off the desk. 

Anne sat up, combed her fingers through his hair to help smooth it out. Phillip did his best to make himself presentable, but Anne was still a distraction.

He kissed her again. Lingering, soft. Then he headed to the door. Before he left, Phillip cast her one last look: seated on the edge of his desk, looking back at him over her shoulder. Her hair wild, her lips swollen, and chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She was perfection, but he had to go. So he turned quickly and left, all the while wishing he could stay.

 

+1

It was early. Too early, judging by the fact it was still pitch black outside. Phillip groggily took a moment to try to figure out what exactly had woken him. Likely the rain now pelting the windows, he guessed. Heavy and hollow. Yawning widely, he realized it was hail. Thankful he didn’t have to get up yet, or at all since it was technically his day off, Phillip rolled over and found Anne sound asleep beside him. Always a welcome sight.

She was sprawled on her stomach, her face turned slightly toward him and one hand fisted in the blankets between them. Phillip reached out slowly and gently brushed some of her curls away from her face, tucking them behind her. After several moments, with the hail and wind growing louder as the storm picked up, her eyes fluttered and she drew in a deep breath. With a small whine she shifted herself a little closer to his side of the bed, seeking his warmth. Anne frowned as she started to wake up and Phillip smiled to himself, amused at the annoyed crease forming between her brows. 

As she slowly became more aware of her surroundings, Anne drew closer still, burrowing herself against Phillip and moving her head to his pillow. She sighed deeply. 

“It's still dark,” she mumbled.

“It's early.” Phillip slid his hand over her side and started tracing soothing circles against her back. 

“Why are we awake then?” One sleepy brown eye blinked open and she jutted out her lower lip, not quite a pout. But close enough. Phillip bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

“It’s hailing. Listen.” The storm was raging now. Wind whipping against the outside of the caravan, ice thunking against the roof like rocks. A voice in the back of his mind wondered what it would do to the big top, but that was a problem for later. Much, much later. For now Phillip was immensely glad they were inside, huddled together under the blankets. Safe and warm together. “Try to go back to sleep,” he whispered after a short while. 

“‘M too awake now.” 

“Mm, well that's too bad because I'm going back to sleep.” He shut his eyes tightly and as soon as he did he felt Anne's hand slide up his chest, and along his neck to cup his jaw. Her thumb brushed against his cheek softly. Then she pinched him. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough force him to look at her.

“You know, if you wanted my attention you could have just said so.” He laughed, and Anne lifted her head until her lips were nearly brushing his. Playful. Teasing.

“What if I always want your attention?” she whispered. 

“Then I would say it's a very good thing that you always have it.” Phillip caught her lips in a kiss, could feel her smiling against his mouth. 

As they shared soft kisses the sound of the storm seemed to dim into nothingness, their attention now solely focused on one another. Anne hooked a leg around Phillip’s hips as their bodies melded together until they were nothing but a tangle of limbs. His lips tracing over hers while her fingers dug into his hair, keeping him close. Always close. 

With nothing to disturb them, and dawn still a long way off it felt as if they were the only two people in the world… as if they had all the time the world. For that Phillip was beyond grateful, because there was truly no other place he wished to be.


End file.
